


TLB3000

by LostNTheShadows



Category: Lost Boys (1987), Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Humor, Satire, Vampires, the tribe bashing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-02-01
Updated: 2009-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-02 17:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2820710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostNTheShadows/pseuds/LostNTheShadows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vampires and hunters alike come together for a very special viewing of The Tribe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	TLB3000

**Author's Note:**

> Because The Tribe was so incredibly awful, I had to do something to purge it from my brain. What better way than to subject our beloved characters to the same torture? I originally wrote this back when the movie first came out, when it was fresh and horrible in my head.

_Various jingles and jangles broke the relative silence of the dimmed movie theater as the Lost Boys made their way down the aisle, followed closely by a chagrinned-looking Star, a pouting Michael and Laddie with a box of Juju Bees. In the center of the theater were Edgar and Alan Frog and Sam Emerson, already enjoying their overpriced movie theater snacks, when the clanging of various metals interrupted them. The theater that was all their own no longer was as the vampire clan stumbled their way down the sticky row behind them. All three heads turned to watch._

**Edgar** – Great. We have to suffer through this with the fang-tastic four and their semi-sidekicks.

 **Sam** – That was a, uh, pretty lame joke there, Edgar.

 **Edgar** – Can it, Liberace.

 **S** – Hey, this shirt isn’t shimmering.

 **Alan** – Yeah, _that_ shirt isn’t shimmering. Your mom needs to torch your closet and excise the fashion demons.

 **S** – That’s funny. So the pre-pubescent Rambo look is the way to go then?

 **David** – _kicks the back of Sam’s chair_ Enough. This is going to hurt plenty without you twerps bitching at each other.

 **A** – What’s that smell?

 **E** – Vampires, my—

 **A** – Yeah, duh. They’re right behind us. That’s not what I’m smelling.

 **S** – Smells like . . . Grandpa’s back yard.

_All heads and bodies turn towards Paul who has a ring of pot smoke circling his head._

**Paul** – _points to joint_ Medically prescribed to keep the pain away.

 **Da** – What pain?

 **P** – _points to screen_ This is gonna hurt.

_The lights dim on the group of chittering teens as the movie flickers to life on screen._

**Dwayne** – They surf?

 **Marko** – Didn’t you read the synopsis?

 **Dw** – How could I? You’re always hogging the computer.

 **Da** – _eyes widen_ That’s why it keeps crashing!

 **Monster Bashers** – Shut up!

 **Dw** – So . . . wait . . . how do they surf at night? They don’t even have David’s spotlight midget. Do they have night vision?

 **Michael** – Or a plot hole.

_Laddie grunts as he picks a juju bee from his teeth._

**Da** – You know, there’s something emasculating about the leader of a vampire gang in flip flips.

 **Ma** – Right. Like we don’t know about—

 **Da** – Quiet, pygmy.

 **Ma** – _mumbles_ Rabid badger.

 **P** – So which one am I?

 **Dw** – What?

 **P** – _inhales_ You know, there’re four of them. Which one am I? David’s the one with the lobotomy.

 **Da** – I resent that.

 **P** – You mean you resemble that. _snort_

 **Da** – Do I sound like that?

 **Star** – Only after three days of no sleep.

 **Michael** – How would you know that?

 **St** – _rolls eyes_ I didn’t join the fan club yesterday and it’s not like I baked cookies to become one of them.

 **P** – Brownies would’ve been better.

 **Ma** – Paul’s the Rasta.

 **Dw** – But they’re all idiots. I’m holding out for tubular.

 **Ma** – And they’re sloppy.

 **Mi** – Yeah, and the Surf Nazi dog pile was inconspicuous.

 **Dw** – Wait, are we minions? Because those morons look like minions.

 **Da** – Like I’m going to order a feed and not take some for myself. WHY ARE THEY EATING THE INTESTINES? Are they zombies or vampires? Maybe they should go for the brains . . .

 **S** – Dude, say it, don’t spray it.

 **Da** – _kicks Sam’s chair_ Quiet, yuppie.

 **S** – I’m not a yuppie.

 **Mi** – Well this looks familiar.

 **P** – Is this supposed to be Santa Carla?

 **Dw** – Luna Bay, Paul. It’s supposed to be Luna Bay.

 **P** – Could have fooled me. _chokes on smoke_ Dude! It’s the saxophone guy! Wow. Maybe he should cut back on the Mickey D’s, huh?

 **Dw** – Kind of oxymoronic to see a fat homeless guy, don’t you think? What with them starving and all?

 **P** – And not a spot of rust on his chains! After all these years . . . I need to find out what he uses.

 **Mi** – So Uhaul is the only moving company in America?

 **P** – Hey! It’s Michael and Star’s prodigy!

 **Da** – That’s progeny, Paul. Progeny.

 **S** – Okay, the house we moved to, weird but nice. No TV but still livable. They look like they’re neck deep in a shit hole.

 **Mi** – Watch your mouth.

 **Ma** – So Aunt Jillian is . . . ?

 **Dw** – Star’s sister?

 **St** – I have a sister?

 **Dw** – Apparently.

 **St** – News to me.

 **Da** – Gotta hand it to them, though. Those kids do look like you two.

 **St & Mi** – _grumbles_

 **Da** – So why did this Shame guy just randomly show up?

 **Dw** – Shane, David. His name is Shane.

 **Da** – Whatever. I had a purpose in bringing the newbs into the family and I at least did it with some finesse. Did someone rub a lamp because he came out of nowhere.

 **Ma** – Snippy.

 **Da** – His feet are too small to fit in my shoes.

 **Dw** – Cocky.

 **Da** – You know it.

 **P** – Shit! _drops remnants of joint_ My roach! _dives under chairs_ Someone give me a light.

_A hand pops up above the chairs, the screen casting a sickly pale glow onto it. Dwayne places a Zippo on Paul’s palm and the hand disappears only to be followed by a click and a flick._

**A** – Christ, these guys aren’t subtle, are they?

 **Dw** – Neither is the chick in the red bikini.

 **Ma** – Why are they serving margaritas?

 **Da** – Because they’re short on testicles.

 **Dw** – Wait, what? Why is Mike Jr. and that guy fighting? Did I miss backstory somewhere?

 **Mi** – Plot hole.

 **P** – _pinching the roach and only succeeding in charring his skin as he tries to light it_ That chick’s ready to hump that kid’s leg.

 **Da** – _scoffs_ Could his handshake be any weaker? Come on! He didn’t even grip her fingers! Pussy. And what’s with his hair?

 **Ma** – You have a mullet. You’re not in a position to judge anyone else’s hair.

 **Da** – At least mine isn’t the mullet supreme.

 **Ma** – At least I can’t slash tires with mine.

 **P** – Boobs!

 **Dw** – We didn’t have boobs.

 **Ma** – We didn’t need them.

 **P** – I need them.

 **Ma** – Eat your roach, Paul.

 **P** – _pops roach into his mouth_

 **Ma** – I, uh, didn’t really mean that.

 **P** – _shrugs_

 **St** – What’s with the flower? It just came back to life? Can you do that, David?

 **Da** – I can fly. That supersedes this prick’s lobotomized petal-pinking.

 **Dw** – Bet he doesn’t know that’s Ophelia on the wall.

 **P** – Bet he doesn’t know that girl’s jail bait. _swallows hard_ So wait, all I have to do is pick up a surfboard and I can nail that chick?

 **Ma** – _sneers_ You’d want to?

 **P** – Why not?

 **Ma** – Oh I don’t know, herpes?

 **P** – We can get those?

 **Ma** – Ask David.

 **Da** – It was a cold sore.

 **Ma** – Oral herpes. That’s what I said.

 **Da** – _ignores Marko_ Triumph my ass. That beast should be riding him.

 **Dw** – Looks like the chick’s about to.

 **Mi** – _spits soda_ Are they gutting each other?

 **Da** – _inhales popcorn kernel and hacks_

 **Dw** – _frowns at David as he partially chokes_

 **Ma** – Gut like a fish. _pops Jujy Fruit into his mouth, spits it out when he realizes it’s licorice and checks the color of the next one against the screen, orange_

 **Da** – _wipes away tears from eyes_ Can we fast forward, please? _hacks, pokes finger in back of throat to dislodge kernel, hacks again_ I’m getting anxious.

_Movie lurches forward at rapid pace._

**P** – Warp boobs!

 **Ma** – Dead boobs.

 **P** – Do we turn to stone?

 **Dw** – Not that I know of.

 **A** – Wait, where am I? It’s Frog _brothers_ , right?

**Da** – Yadda, yadda, yadda . . . 

**P** – Bra-ed boobs! 

**Ma** – Angry brother. 

**Da** – That needs a life. 

**Dw** – Is she walking weird or is it just me? 

**Da** – Is that— 

**Dw** – Don’t say his name! 

**Da** – _cocks eyebrow_ Why? 

**Dw** – His creator will sue. She’s crazy like that. 

**P** – Pasty-covered boobs! 

**Ma** – Obviously editing failed somewhere. 

**P** – Jail bait! 

**Da** – Initiation, initiation, initiation . . . 

**A** – Where am I? 

**E** – Obviously I’ve lost you to the dark side. 

**P** – Luke, I am— 

**All** – No! 

**P** – _pouts_

**St** – So my daughter just gropes over the first guy she comes across? Is she a throw? 

**Da** – I think the term you’re looking for is slut. 

**St** – Can it, porcupine. 

**Da** – Ouch. 

**Dw** – Another initiation? 

**P** – Is it just me or does it look like they’re all on speed? 

**Dw** – The movie’s on fast forward. 

**P** – Well that explains it. 

**Da** – More slaughter, more slaughter . . . _yawns_

**Dw** – He’s killing the vampires already? 

**Da** – Fuck this shit. 

_David stands up and forces his way out of the row and into the aisle, making his way to the exit._

**P** – David, wait! _David stops and turns to look at Paul._ It could be worse. They could be vegetarian vampires. 

_David rolls his eyes and shoves himself out the door._

**A** – Where the shit am I? 


End file.
